A Sweet Revelation
by dahan
Summary: Elizabeth compares the way Rodney treats her with how he treats something else. Written for the 2006 McKayWeir Ficathon.


Written for the McKay/Weir Ficathon 2006.

A challenge issued by 'sjhw tolerance' that required the four specifications of: sex, lies, videotape, and cake. I've never personally interacted with sjhwtolerance, but I'd like to thank her for an interesting initial mental image for my first impression of her. :-p

Unbeta-ed, I claim all mistakes and utter bad qualities of the story as my own.

A/N: Personally, I think I've been hanging around the female McWeir fans a little too much.

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**A Sweet Revelation**

Elizabeth Weir was never one to associate sex with food.

Ok, so that was a lie.

She may have, in passing, appreciated the association on a superficial level for the "kink" aspect, but never beyond that and never with any one person in particular.

Ok, so that was a lie too, but only partly.

It was a typical day in Atlantis, typical by way of there being no foreseeable disasters leading to the assured deaths of expedition members. Elizabeth had simply been passing by the Atlantis mess. It just happened to be on her way back to her office after her usual rounds at various labs and operational areas around the city; she hadn't meant to stop to grab some coffee, it wasn't even a part of her usual routine. Regardless however, she found herself with mug in hand and the warm lifeblood of Atlantis personnel being poured into it.

Very carefully, she swirled the contents in the mug just a little bit, out of a playful habit more than anything else, and began making her way back to the exit. Along the way she acknowledged the few kind greetings of those she passed and as she brought the mug to her lips, she paused.

Sitting at a table near the exit was her Chief of Science, with his tablet computer on hand, apparently finishing up his lunch. Elizabeth didn't really want to guess what he was wolfing down absentmindedly, supplies were getting low again and it was best not to think about it. Given that he was paying more attention to whatever schematics and/or equations that were displayed on his tablet computer currently, she doubted he wanted to think about it much either.

Watching silently, she smiled into her mug.

Shovel food into his mouth, glance at tablet. Take a gulp of his beverage, glance at tablet. Stab forcibly into unidentifiable foodstuff with fork, scribble on tablet.

Even when eating, the internal workings of Rodney McKay's mind were frantically moving and just as appropriate, so were his hands. To any other observer, this would be your average workaholic during a lunch break, someone who was unwilling or unable to stop working regardless of the fact that this was technically their personal time. And to a point, those casual observers would have been correct.

To Elizabeth Weir however, she was of the opinion that this was Rodney McKay in his desired element; Food on hand, and something highly technical to occupy his mind. She could almost imagine the complaining and ranting he would exhibit if he happened to have access to one but was lacking the other. And as annoying to most people as it would have been, she herself found it somewhat… charming, if only in a predictably amusing kind of way. Though, that is not to say that this was her preferred element for him, as well as his frantically moving, and in her opinion skillful, hands.

Still, she thought he did look rather cute with his mouth full of food and contorted in seemingly deep thought.

Gathering her thoughts, Elizabeth began to turn away.

A moment was all she allowed for such thoughts. They were unprofessional, distracting, and perhaps even a bit childish. And no matter how much she enjoyed them, and sometimes the daydreams that later accompanied, there was always a little pang of guilt that inevitably followed given her position on Atlantis. Such thoughts on a co-worker or even a friend were likely, in the end, probably detrimental to even those parties who weren't involved. It was also true that Elizabeth knew that on some level, these thoughts as fun as they were, were probably in someway unhealthy for her personally.

Of course, that just meant that this was her personal candy, and really, what child is able to give that up willingly?

Grinning, Elizabeth shook her head and failed to resist the urge to steal one last glance. And comparable to before, the glance causes her to freeze at the sight before her.

Having seemingly finished with his entrée, the astrophysicist had switched off his tablet computer and placed it to his side. His tray followed soon after in a similar fashion and taking both their places, as Dr. Rodney McKay's sole focus for the moment, was a single slice of decadence, known to one and all as a piece of chocolate cake.

Taking special care in wiping the remnants of whatever he had been eating off his fork, Rodney eyed the dessert through his lashes for a moment before making a careful and almost concentrated incision into the slice with his fork. He eyed the portion that soon resided on the utensil, just for a moment, and with apparently high regard for the bite sized morsel, consumed it with a pleasure and respect that nearly bordered on being perverse.

And at this moment, as she uncomfortable gulps, a certain memory chooses to flick on in Elizabeth's mind.

It had been an absentminded comment by Colonel Sheppard, one of his usual passing remarks after some random meeting or briefing. She doubted he would even remember it at all if he were to be asked. All John had wondered was whether she had ever taken notice that she always seemed to get Rodney's undivided attention. That he would often drop everything, be it new Ancient tech toy or frantic rant, when she spoke to him.

The seasoned diplomat had needed to bite the inside of her cheek to keep from smiling too much when she heard the Colonel's observation. The videotape of her mind's eye instantly triggered into replaying various encounters she had had with Rodney, be they planned meetings or unexpected visits. Regardless of who he was talking to or what he was doing at the moment, he would often brush aside the "who" or "what" for her. And though Elizabeth felt guilty, _sometimes_, for whomever or whatever fell victim to his immediate attention shift to her, she found the habit rather… winsome.

Honestly, it was all she could do to keep from obsessing at the tiny thrill that went along with his shifted gaze and subtle smile.

In the end, she was actually quite thankful when John had taken her apathetic utterance of, "Really? I hadn't noticed." at face value. Elizabeth also silently hoped that the easy dismissal meant that John would think nothing more of the habit and not spread it about. That was, after all, how rumors got started and personally, she was of the opinion that if something caused you to hide your grin and make certain parts of oneself flutter, it should remain private. At the very least, she was of the opinion it was more fun that way.

Returning to the present, where the moist crumbs of chocolate sponge were lightly brushing her Chief of Science's lips, Elizabeth slowly gauged the implications of this behavior.

As far as she knew, she had earned Rodney McKay's respect and, in her mind, he felt she was deserving of the undivided attention he had bestowed upon her. After all, Elizabeth was his boss and that should mean that Rodney should remove all other distractions and focus squarely on her when she needed it. She was also his closest friend and that alone was worthy of at least a little favoritism, perhaps even some affection, directed at her in the way he did things. It was only right.

And though it was ludicrous to contemplate or compare or whatever, the slice of pastry perfection, currently being consumed in a symphony of grace and indulgence by Rodney McKay, was being treated in much the same way he treated her.

Almost.

It was true the dessert was continually being eaten with the vigor she had expected from Rodney when he did anything. He was obviously devoting his full attention to the task that the chocolate concoction had demanded of him, rivaling the way he always dealt with whatever Elizabeth herself had ever demanded of him. And though neither similarity caused Elizabeth to suspect Rodney's unwavering feelings of respect and affection toward her was anything but genuine or special, it did however to cause her to think. To feel that perhaps there was, or should be, something _else_ to his behavior toward her. Considering that, above all else, the sugary culinary creation he was partaking in was definitely, most assuredly, providing him a feeling of great pleasure.

Elizabeth watches on, as the cake is consumed bite by delectable bite, her warm coffee growing cooler with each precisely positioned fork cut into creamy combination of frosting and dark cake sponge. Watching the occasional need for his tongue to aid with the unavoidable crumbs that land on his upper lip, her mind wanders for just a little more.

Quite honestly, she wasn't sure which entity was being greater complimented.

The dessert that Rodney was continuingly delving into in blissful enjoyment that was treated with respect and awe worthy of an expedition leader and friend, or herself who, as it turned out, was being treated on par with an object that elicited thoughts of nothing more than pleasurable satisfaction. Was there even a difference for him? Did she want there to be one?

And as abruptly as the silly thoughts flooded her mind, they stopped just as so to the sharp sound of a metal fork being dropped on an empty plate. Rodney had finished his treat and before she knew it had cleaned up his tray and was now making his way toward the exit, the exit that she was currently in rather close proximity to.

He sees her, shifts his gaze from the exit toward her, greets her kindly with his usual "Lizabeth", and Elizabeth feels the familiar thrill she usually does when she's his sole focus. Only this time, the feeling was perhaps more heightened.

Somehow he ends up walking out with her through the corridor with his tablet computer tucked under his arm. He chatters about what he was working on earlier, but Elizabeth doesn't really hear him. She finds that she needs to catch herself from staring at his lips too long as she desperately tries very hard not to think about how every crumb and moist sugary speck, that occupied those lips a moment ago, was licked and devoured away.

She fails.

She also tries not to think about how each word, each breath, he utters at the moment is chocolate coated.

She fails miserably.

She does however, succeed in uttering sounds of acknowledgement to what Rodney prattles on about, as well as using her now mug of cooled coffee as a device to hide her guilty smiles. And as far her conscious mind is concerned, she'll never admit for one brief moment while he was talking, she licked her own lips.

Yes, Elizabeth Weir was never one to associate sex with food.

She was, however, now unable to break the association between Rodney McKay and dessert.

The End

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Can't say it was my best work, but I'd like to hear from people regardless. Thanks for reading.

A/N: Oh and just as a final mention, a tiny little sliver of inspiration for this story can be blamed on a short post at McWeir Central, by fififolle. ;)


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